The Grey Man

'Have you had any visitors for me?'

A white man with medium build about 5 foot 7 with grey hair in a grey suit with a white shirt is standing on the other side of the desk. He is probably in his late forties or early fifties. About 80 percent of the company's employees match this description. He is not specifically familiar. The odour of Marlborough Reds and sour laundry wafts across the desk and straight up my nose. I'll remember him now.

'I'm sorry sir, but what's your name?'

He clears his throat in irritation and rifles in his pockets for a business card. He passes it across the desk with a flourish.

'I'm Terry Huffington. I have a meeting room booked here today!'

He starts to scuffle and jerk gently at the other side of the desk - like a chicken scratching for a worm.

I scan the calendars looking for his name and when it doesn't appear I start reading out the names that do appear:

'Room 1 - Vaguely Inappropriate One-to-one - that started at 9 am and is booked through to lunchtime...don't think that's it?

Room 2 - Unfeasibly Overbudget Project Catchup from eleven until one...

Room 3 - Appraisals - all day

Room 4 - Sally Crispmuncher - 10 people - half nine until two...'

He blinks his watery pink eyes. 'That's it. Sally's my PA.'

'My apologies for not spotting it, perhaps Sally could make the booking in your name to avoid confusion next time?'

He ignores me 'Where's room 4?'

'On the first floor.'

'And how do I get there? Honestly, I don't have time for this!'

I smile serenely and walk him to the lift to scan him up.

'Which floor is it again?' He wipes his face with a grubby handkerchief and stares at the lift doors with determination.

As the door opens I press the button for the first floor and walk back to the desk.

Arse!

Oh dear, Oh DEAR

We have a temp until further notice. But Imelda is redundant right? So he's taking care of all the new duties that have appeared in the interim...I guess.

A few things about our temp:

A) He told me on his first day that he is a Pagan.
B) On his second day he obviously felt comfortable enough to start wearing his silver ring that has a wolf's head on it and glittery rhinestone eyes.
C) Yesterday he told me he's excited that Weird Al Yankovic has announced a gig in London. He's a little concerned the venue won't be big enough for all the fans of Weird Al. I did not share his concern.

I shouldn't complain I guess, he brings me cups of tea and I don't even have to bully him into it.

Contrary to the saying, there are lots of stupid questions

'You booked a meeting room for me last week. Can you tell me which one it is?'

'I thought I sent you a meeting invitation when I booked it...'

'Yes, but I didn't look at it. So which room is it please?'

Is it any wonder that I'm an angry? Visiting staff members from other offices are a persistent thorn in my delicate side. Massive egos and convenient helplessness are standard.

Need a CD? Walk past the stationery cupboard and ask at reception!

Having trouble connecting to the network? Why not call reception and ask them to send someone to help you!

Didn't print your documents for your presentation because you didn't want to carry them on the train? Just sidle up to the reception desk and open with something like:

'Do you think you might be able to do me a small favour?'

You will be met with a suspicious look. When you produce a USB stick with your presentation on it don't expect the receptionist to do cartwheels at the prospect of doing your printing and collating for you. If you suggest that you could also find a way to email the documents to me this will not turn my frown upside down.

Remind me to send your PA a big thank you for dumping her work onto me while takes she takes a half day while you terrorize my office!

Oh my gawd, will you just sign out and go home already?

Let me tell you how this works

Fairly standard day begins - white coffee, no sugar.

'Can I have a pass?'

I look up from my console.

A smug face is looking back at me, craning his neck to see if he can somehow reach over the desk and open the drawer to get the visitor's security pass himself.

Never having seen him before, I ask: 'Are you a member of staff?'

He looks at me with a pitying smile. 'Yes, I've transferred from Southampton.'

'My apologies, I've been on leave so I'm just catching up. What's your name?'

'Joe Blow. How do I go about getting a pass so I don't have to sign one out? After all, I am based here.' He looks at the day pass in his hand with longing and I know I'll have to make sure he hands it in on his way out.

'The best thing to do is speak to your administrator and she can take care of it for you.'

'I'm not sure who that would be.'

'Which floor are you on?'

'First.'

'That would be Rachel. You'll need a photo taken...or if you have a photo that you're happy with in JPEG format we can use that.'

'Ok.'

The next day he comes in and hovers over the desk as clients are signing in, pacing back and forth in the background. As soon as they disperse the question comes:

'Is my photo pass ready?'

I look up at him with my best puzzled look, which I'm sure looks a bit sarcastic around the edges.

'I haven't received a photo. Did you speak to Rachel about sorting out your pass?' Visitor start to accumulate behind him, I motion for them to sign in and I continue speaking to Mr Blow.

'No, not yet.'

'Did you send me a photo yourself?'

'No.'

'Okay, if you just sign in the staff signing in book you'll have to take another day pass today.'

He looks at me with a hint of malice as he signs his name in the book and taps the pen in short sharp bursts as I select a pass from the drawer.

'You're number 12. Please enter the number in the book. Don't forget to speak to Rachel about your pass today. I can issue it as soon as I have that photo.' He slopes off, not a moment too soon.

Later:

The photo comes through via email and I print the pass. He collects it.The following morning he signs out another visitor pass because he has forgotten his shiny new one at home. All cretins, please report to reception immediately...